


Hunting Ground

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been an easy bust, but what is ever easy? Peter and Janine are trapped with something that might be hostile, maybe even dangerous to their lives, or it might be their only way to get out of this alive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunting Ground

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties

It was supposed to be an easy bust.  Right now, Winston Zeddmore wasn’t so sure.  The bluish-yellow specter was zigzagging through the ruin of the old mansion, trailing a bunch of very angry, very sweaty men and one woman behind it.  Janine Melnitz had accompanied Winston, Egon and Peter since Ray was down with a heavy cold.  The occultist had wanted to go with them, but Peter had told him very firmly what he would do to his Stay Puft doll if he didn’t stay in bed and get better.

                “There he goes!” Peter caroled and scrambled over what had once been a cupboard and now was no more than a few pieces of wood.

                They had been hired by the new owner of the piece of land the ruin stood on.  He had planned to tear down the house and build a new one, but the workmen had been scared off by the ghost which seemed to live here.

                “He’s too fast,” Winston gasped, wiping sweat from his brow.  “And he knows his way around this ruin.”

                “True,” Egon agreed.  “We have to circle him somehow, then trap him in a crossfire.”  He consulted his PKE meter, frowning.

                “What is it, big guy?” Peter wheezed and stopped at his side.

                “I’m getting these interferences again.  Very strange.”  Egon had read these interferences from the moment they had entered the house.  He couldn’t trace their and he couldn’t tell whether it was a ghost or something else.

                “The ghost?” Winston wanted to know.

                The blond man shook his head.  “No.  It isn’t this ghost.  And that’s the only thing I’m sure of.”

                Peter grimaced.  “I don’t like it.”

                “Guys!” Janine suddenly yelled.  “You wanna bust a ghost or make small talk?”

                “Coming ... boss!” Peter called back.

                Janine gave an enraged ‘Peter!’ and tried to hit him with her proton rifle as he jogged past her, but missed.

                “Let’s surround the little critter,” Winston called and went one way, followed by Egon, who somehow avoided tripping over debris while keeping his eyes on the meter.

                “Gotcha.”  Peter took the other way.

                That left Janine with only one option: Peter.  She ran after the dark-haired psychologist, though she would have preferred teaming up with Egon.

                The ghost had stopped somewhere in the livingroom and hovered above some old rug.  His multi-eyed head turned and he sniffed the air with a nose-like extension just below one row of ugly, pink-colored eyes.

                “Now we gotcha, buddy,” Peter muttered and took aim.

                The ghost saw him, gave a howling scream and hurtled away before Peter could get a straight aim.  Cursing, he followed him, Janine in tow.  They were halfway into the room when Peter heard an ominous creak.  He stopped and the red-haired secretary, and part-time Ghostbuster, nearly bumped into him.

                “What’s wrong?” she asked.

                Another creak, sounding very much like strained wood, answered her.

                “Oh-oh,” Peter muttered.  “I think it’s time to beat a hasty retreat — nice and easy.”  He made a step back to the door through which they had just entered the room when the floor below him gave way.  His leg crashed through the wood and Peter gave a gasp of pain when something cut into it.  Janine grabbed him, trying to haul him up again.

                “No!” Peter hissed.  “Get help before the whole damn floor desintegrates completely!”

                Janine wanted to object, but never had the chance.  The floor decided it was too weak to sustain two Ghostbusters with proton packs, and gave way completely.  Janine screamed as she fell into the hole and thought she heard another scream.  Then everything went black.

t

                “That was one hard-to-get nasty,” Winston breathed and gave the trap a little kick.  A blinking light indicated the successful catch.

                “It was much stronger than a normal Class 3.  Fascinating.  I have to get a closer look at it.”  Egon was already lost in thought as he studied the last readings of the PKE meter.  The interference was still there.

                “I hope you don’t plan to free that thing again, Egon.”

                “No, of course not.”  Egon looked around.  “Shouldn’t Peter and Janine have come around the other side of the ghost?”

                Winston frowned a little.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”  He looked around.  “Pete?” he yelled.  “Janine?”

                No answer.

                “I’ll take a look around.  Maybe they ran into trouble.”  Winston walked off, leaving Egon alone with the trap.  The physicist took another look at the PKE meter, then grabbed the trap and walked outside to Ecto-1 to store it there.  He was sure the others would be there soon, and he still had to sort through the strange readings he had taken.

t

                Janine woke to the sensation of someone touching her.  Her blurry mind registered those touches that seemed to cover her whole body.  When one hand of the stranger worked along her leg upwards she opened her eyes abruptly, her hands flailing in the direction she guessed the stranger was.  She was rewarded with a startled, pain filled ‘ouff’ and something fell down with a muffled thump.

                Blinking into the dim light around her Janine tried to sit up — only to sink back with a moan as a sharp twinge in her ribs and a hot pain in her leg made themselves felt.

                “Janine?”

                A male voice drifted through her muzzy mind and she concentrated on it, knowing it was familiar.

                “Janine?  Are you awake?” the voice continued, pulling her attention to it.

                Opening her eyes again a pale face swam into focus.  A pair of green eyes looked worriedly at her.

                “Peter?”  Aghast she noticed how weak her voice sounded.

                A smile split the pale face into halves.  “Hiya, welcome back to the land of the living.  You gave me quite a scare — until you hit me.”

                “Sorry, Peter, di’n’t want to....”  It was hard to talk.  The pain made it nearly impossible and she felt tears spring to her eyes.  Angrily, she pulled herself together.

                “It’s okay, Janine,” Peter soothed her, patting her shoulder.  She didn’t know whether he meant the tears or the blow she had administered.  “How do you feel?”

                “Lousy,” she confessed, trying to find a position where the pain was bearable.  “Wha’ happened?”

                “We took the turbo lift downstairs,” the psychologist answered lightly.  “The floor broke down and took us with it.”  Peter glanced down her body.  “Where does it hurt?”

                “Leg,” she managed.  “And ribs.”

                Peter ran his hand over her torso and she winced when he touched a tender spot.  “Ribs,” he acknowledged.  “The leg doesn’t look bad, but you’re trapped under a beam.  I’ll see if I can get it off.”

                The psychologist moved away from his position at her side and she heard him rummage around the debris that had fallen down.  As her vision cleared more and more she got a real good look at her surroundings.  She was lying flat on her back — someone had removed the proton pack — and there were tons of debris to her left and farther down.  To her right side a kind of tunnel stretched away into blackness that was only lit by a greenish light.  To her surprise she noted that the light came from something that looked like moss or fungi.  Egon would have known what it was.  Above her was a hole in the ceiling.  They had taken quite a fall, she noticed.

                That brought her mind back to her injuries and she wondered how Peter was.  He sounded okay, but she knew he was good at covering up his own pain when others needed him.

                “Got something.”  His voice floated over from near her leg.  “It may hurt, Janine....”

                “Do it,” she said, clenching her teeth.

  

  1. Somehow, she felt ashamed to cry.
  



                “It’s okay, Janine,” a soft voice told her.  “Just try not to move.”

                “Peter,” she managed and felt him squeeze her hand in return.  “Make it stop,” she begged.

                There was no immediate reply, only the stroking motions on her head stilled for a second.

                “The guys will get us out of here,” he said with force.  “Hold on.”

                Blackness threatened to swallow her and Janine felt herself dragged into the bottomless hole.  The pain reverted to a mere numb impression somewhere far back in her mind as she drifted into unconsciousness.

t

                Winston had been through the whole house twice, but there was no trace of either Peter or Janine.  Now he was worried.  The two had to be somewhere, but there was no indication where this ‘somewhere’ could be.  So he returned to Egon, who was already waiting for him.

                “Where are Peter and Janine?” the blond man wanted to know.

                “That’s something I’d like to know, too.  I’ve searched the damn place twice, but there’s not a single trace of them.”

                Egon frowned.  “Then we have to search the house again.  They can’t be anywhere else.”

                “What about those interferences, Egon?  Could they have anything to do with it?”

                “I don’t know, Winston.  I have been trying to pinpoint their source, but it is impossible.  Maybe now that the ghost is gone I can get a better reading inside.”

                “Then let’s go.  Pete and Janine might be in trouble.”

t

                Half an hour later they met in the former hall, both looking grimy from passing through too many dusty rooms.

                “Anything?” Winston wanted to know.

                Egon shook his head.  “Nothing.  And I searched everything.”

                “What now?”

                “I have been able to find a more or less strong point where the interferences may have their origin,” Egon said slowly.

                “So what are we waiting for?  Where’s this place?”  Winston looked around as if he could see the source Egon was talking about.

                The blond physicist hesitated, his eyes still on the small display of the meter.  Something bothered him about the interferences, but he didn’t know what it was.  He went a few steps toward the ruined livingroom of the old house and stopped.  The meter was crackling loudly and finally gave a screech.

                “The interference is located in this room,” Egon explained and pointed at the livingroom.

                “You think that’s what Peter and Janine ran into?”

                “Possible.”

                With that Egon walked into the room and Winston followed him with a shrug.

t

                Peter Venkman sat with his back to the cold wall of their prison.  Because that was exactly what it was: a prison.  There were walls around him except for one side, but the tunnel lead nowhere.  It was a dead end, a way blocked by a solid wall.  So he had returned to where Janine lay.

                Janine.

                Peter turned his head, his stomach clenching into an icy knot when he saw the slim form of their secretary.  He had been able to free her leg from the beam and most of the large chunks of ceiling.  Her pink coverall was torn in several places and he knew her leg and ribs were broken.  He didn’t even want to think about internal injuries.  He crawled over to her and checked her pulse.  Janine was still unconscious, but her pulse was strong and regular.

                The movements brought a wave of pain from his own injuries, the least being the scrapes and bruises.  His leg had been injured when he had broken through the floor.  The cut had stopped bleeding and the dried blood was gluing his jumpsuit leg to the skin.  His head hurt like blazes and now and then his eyes lost focus.  He must have hit it somewhere.

                “What have I gotten us into this time?” he asked no-one specific and rubbed his eyes.

                Janine didn’t answer him and he settled down beside her, taking her hand and squeezing it.  Then he looked up, the movement making his head spin a little.  The hole in the ceiling that they had fallen through, was wide enough to let some light enter.  And it was wide enough to be seen.  So why didn’t the guys get here and pull them out of this mess?

                “EGON?  WINSTON?” Peter yelled, not for the first time, but just like before there was no answer.  “Hey, guys!  Anybody there?!  Don’t tell me you left without us!”

                Again, only silence.

                “It’s not nice to leave Dr. Venkman all alone in a dark and dirty place!” Peter continued, his voice echoing through the room.  “You hear me, guys?  I want out of here!”

                There was a slight moan from Janine and Peter’s attention immediately returned to his secretary.

                “Janine?”

                Another moan and Janine’s eyes fluttered open.  “Hi,” she whispered.

                “Hi, sleepy head,” he said softly.  “How do you feel?”

                “Still lousy,” she answered and blinked.

                Peter gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.  “The guys will be here soon.”

                Janine sighed.  The pain was still there and she knew that their situation had not improved.  She knew it by Peter’s strained calmness and the fact that he held her hand, like he needed the contact to suppress his own fear.

                Suddenly there was a noise — but it didn’t come from above.  It came from out of the dead end tunnel.  Peter stiffened, his eyes trying to see through the darkness.

                “Peter?  What is it?” the red-haired secretary asked.

                “Shh,” he whispered, placing a finger over her lips.

                Janine obeyed, then heard the noise Peter had heard before.  It was a scratching, like sharp claws over stone.  She felt her own body stiffen and fear rise inside of her.

                Peter grabbed the proton pack he had taken off and put on the floor.  Janine’s own pack was damaged and he had barely been able to get it off her back without causing further injuries.  Well, he hoped he hadn’t caused her further injuries.  The thrower in his hand felt vaguely reassuring, though he didn’t know what it was that came closer.  It certainly was big because it made a whole lot of noise.  The dark-haired man switched on the proton pack and a whine announced its readiness.  The scratching noise stopped, replaced by a low growl.  Peter felt his hair rise.

                Then something stepped into the twilight of the room they were trapped in.  It was large, maybe as large as a pony, but it definitely didn’t look like one.  It had four legs, the body was slim and covered with black, wetly glistening armor.  The head had a long snout and two pointed ears were pricked forward as if it was listening to something.  Dirty, yellowish eyes watched the two humans and a long tail twitched now and then.  Peter couldn’t see more of it because it was way too dark down here.

                “What is that thing?” Janine whispered in horror.  It reminded her of a mixture between the Alien from the well-known movie and a horse.

                Peter grabbed his thrower tightly, aiming it at the creature.  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.”  He moved slowly between Janine and the alien creature.

                There was a snort from the entity and it cocked its head, eyes narrowing on Peter.  The Ghostbuster felt an icy shower run down his spine.  His thumb hovered above the trigger button.

                But instead of coming closer or giving off more hisses and growls, the creature walked back into the shadows, its eyes never leaving the two humans.  The blackness swallowed it up completely.

                Peter felt sweat drip off his forehead and noticed the white-knuckled grip he held on the thrower.  Though the creature was gone, he still knew it was here.  And that gave him a chill.  Moving back to Janine, he glanced at her.

                “You all right?” he whispered.

                “Yeah.  What was that thing?”

                “Wish I knew.  It’s still there, I think.  In the shadows.”  He tried to penetrate the black hole, but failed.

                “What now?”

                Peter had thought about that, too.  There were two options.  Either sit here and wait or get up and do something.  Since Peter wasn’t the patient kind, he decided for the second option.

                “You stay here and lay low,” he told Janine.  I’ll check out who our visitor is.”

                “As if I had any other choice,” the secretary grumbled sourly.

                Peter smiled tightly, without humor.

                “Peter, are you sure it’s a good idea to go after that thing?”

                “Did I ever have a good idea?” he returned.  “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Janine, but I don’t like sitting here, waiting for it to make a move.  If I can make the first move, I’ll do it.  Besides, if it’s a ghost, I’m gonna bust it.”  He waved with the rifle.  “I still got a trap and my pack.”

                “Just be careful.  It gets awfully boring if you have only rocks to talk to.”

                “Don’t you have enough practice with Egon?”

                “Get out!” she yelled and the Ghostbuster grinned.

                He stood and walked cautiously over toward the dark tunnel, which was lit by the strange, glowing moss.  The plants didn’t give enough light to illuminate more than the immediate space around it.  Peter had to rely on his own eyes adjusting to the darkness, and his instincts.

                He was about ten steps into the tunnel when he felt his hair rise.  Clutching the proton rifle even tighter, he stopped, scanning.  He saw nothing.  Then there was a growl, low and barely audible, but still a growl.  And it was menacing.  Peter thought he saw a shadow, unnatural black moving through natural darkness, just outside his vision.

                “Okay, show yourself!” he called, turning, trying to see what was around him.  “I know you’re here!”

                Another movement.  Peter backed away a bit, feeling stupid all of a sudden.  “Venkman, you’ve had better ideas on worse days.  That was a dumb idea.  Dumb, dumb, dumb!”  He backed farther away toward where Janine still lay.

                Suddenly something jumped forward, directly at the dark-haired psychologist.  Peter gave a frightened yell and stumbled away.  He felt something unyieldingly hard slam into him.  He lost his balance and went down, his thrower flying out of his hand.  The psychologist rolled around, blindly groping for his rifle or the cable it was attached to, whatever he found first.  His fingers closed around the rifle’s front end and he gave a silent thanks, pulling it toward him.

                A growl made him freeze in his action, then he quickly grabbed the thrower.  When he saw the shadow again, he fired.  The ionized protons illuminated the blackness for just a second, revealing brick walls and a littered floor.  Nothing else.  Peter decided to get the hell back to Janine and settle for the first option.  Better wait in the twilight than fight in the dark.

                He retraced his steps and finally saw the dull twilight of the ‘exit’ of the tunnel.  Quickening his retreat he was just out of the tunnel when the growl and hiss came again.  Peter whirled around as he heard Janine scream a warning.  The black creature jumped him again, bright yellow eyes alight.

                “Ahhh,” he gasped as claws pressed painfully into his already battered body.  His rifle went flying a second time.

                “Peter!” came the frightened yell from Janine.

                Peter’s breath came in rapid, strangled gasps.  Whatever it was that stood on his chest, it was heavy.  The creature gave another snort and turned its head, taking in Janine and then staring at the thrower.  With a quick snap of its jaws it bit through the connecting cable between the pack and the rifle.  Then it turned back to the man it had pinned down.  A hiss escaped the lipless mouth.

                The dark-haired psychologist knew he was completely helpless.  Whatever that thing’s intention was, he couldn’t do anything to prevent it.  Silently writing off his life, he steeled himself for what was to come.

                Janine had not been lying around without thinking about a way to help Peter.  Her hands closed on a large brick and she swung her weapon at the creature.  Since she lay at an awkward angle to it, the stone only grazed its head.

                There was no reaction at all except a low rumble.  The eyes fixed on Janine again.  Peter used that moment of distraction to slam his hands into the snout and try to dislodge the thing from him.  It felt like hitting pure granite.  His wrists took the impact and he gasped again.  Tears shot in his eyes and he bit his lip.

                “Shit!” he whispered.

                A strange hum came from the creature.  All of a sudden it pulled back — just far enough to give Peter a chance to sit up.  And the psychologist did so, one hand holding his hurting ribcage.

                “Janine?” he croaked without turning around.

                “I’m ... I’m fine,” she gasped.  “You?”

                “Never felt better,” he lied.

                The creature cocked its head and snorted.

                “I think it understands us,” Janine said in a low voice.

                “I think it wants to eat us.”

                “I don’t think so.  Why would it release you then?”

                Peter moved closer to her, shedding his useless pack, but never letting the black creature out of his sight.

                “Ever heard of hunters playing with their prey?” he asked her.

                When she didn’t answer, he risked a look at her, noticing the strained lines in her face and the sweat glistening on her forehead.  She was in pain and in urgent need of a doctor.

                _Hold on_ , he thought, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, his mind reeling.  Whatever that thing was, it didn’t want to kill them — well, not yet anyway.  But why did it behave like it did?  He wished he had a PKE meter.  It didn’t look like a ghost, but then — was there a really normal look for ghosts?  A way to say that this was one or not?  No.  Readings told whether he confronted a ghost or a demon or a god.  If that thing was a demon, they were in even deeper shit than he wanted to think of.

                Peter looked at the thrower which lay a few feet from him, a bit of bitten through cable trailing out of one end.  The rest of the cable was still attached to the pack.

                “Maybe we should try to communicate with it,” Janine suddenly suggested.  “I think it can understand us, Dr. V.”

                “I don’t know,” Peter said doubtfully.  “You want me to give it the ‘Me Peter, you Jane’ routine?”

                That drew a chuckle, followed by a hiss of pain.  “Don’t make me laugh, Venkman!” Janine admonished.

                A movement caught his eye.  The creature came closer.  Peter tensed immediately and moved back.  It stopped, snorting again.

                “She is hurt.”  Its voice was deep and dark, but not unpleasant.  In fact, it was very pleasant, warm and calm.

                Peter stared at the thing in disbelief.  “It talks,” he whispered in complete surprise.

                Yellow eyes bored into him.  “Why shouldn’t I?”

                “Ahm, well, I ... I’m sorry.”

                “What for?”

                Peter inhaled deeply.  “What are you?  And where did you come from?  The tunnel is a dead end!  And why the hell did you attack?”

                “I am called a Sinth.  And I came through the darkness.  There are no dead ends for me.”

                “Oh, that explains everything.”

                The creature, the Sinth, snorted again.  “And I didn’t attack, simply reacted to your fiery stream.”

                _Provocation_ , Peter thought.  Okay, he understood that.  It had been a stupid thing to do.

                “You are not alone,” the Sinth suddenly said.

                “How do you know?”

                “I know,” its soft voice said and Peter thought it somehow sounded female, though he couldn’t say why.

                “Our friends are searching for us,” the psychologist said slowly.

                “They won’t find you.”

                The statement hung in the air and Peter felt his stomach clench.  “What do you mean?” he asked slowly.

                “They won’t find you,” the Sinth repeated.

                “Why?”  Janine wanted to know, her voice weak, but clear.  “They will find the hole we fell through.”

                “They won’t.”  The dark voice didn’t change in tone, the pupilless yellow eyes simply continued to look at them.

                “Listen, buddy,” Peter hissed, his patience close to being nullified, “what d’you mean they can’t find the hole?  It isn’t exactly small, y’know!  They’ll find us all right.”

                “To their eyes, there won’t be a hole.  To their feet, the surface is solid.”

                “What?” Peter cried.  “How?”

                “This is Thaenjhvuinhj’s realm.  She decides what will happen.”

                That left both of them speechless.  Peter was the first to get his tongue untied.  “And who exactly is this Thaenjhvuinhj?”

                “She is a powerful Ji’hintj.  I respect her for her power.”

                “Well, that’s really an explanation.  Thanks very much,” the Ghostbuster replied sarcastically.

                “What’s a What’s-his-name?” Janine asked.

                “The Ji’hintj is more powerful than I am, but we are of the same kind.”

                “Okay, so it’s family ties.  You working for that Tanny?”

                The Sinth cocked its head, apparently not understanding Peter’s question.  “I am my own,” it simply said.

                “What does this Tingledin want from us?”

                There was another lengthy silence.  “You took the prey she lured to this place to feed.  Now she’s angry.”  The black ears twitched and another snort escaped the long muzzle.

                “Prey?” he echoed.  “What prey?”

                “She chased her prey to this place and you took it.  So now she wants you.”

                “She wants to eat us,” Janine whispered in horror.

                The creature snorted.  “Eat you?”  It gave a disgusted noise.

                “So if she doesn’t want to eat us, but wants to keep us, what the hell does she want to do?”  Peter’s nerves were showing and his eyes were glittering dangerously.  “And what’s your role in this game?”

                “Your friends have the prey, so she has taken you.”

                “Hostage exchange,” Janine muttered, shifting her position a little.

                “I,” the black creature continued, “play no role in her chase.  I simply watch.  And maybe feed of the remainders.”

                “If you simply watch why don’t you tell us a way out?” Peter suggested.  “We get back to our friends and tell them to free that prey of hers and she’s one happy ghost.”

                A hiss of disgust came from the Sinth.  “Thaenjhvuinhj is no ghost!” it growled in annoyance.  “She’s more powerful.  She feeds on such small creatures as ghosts.”

                “Oh. Great,” Peter muttered without enthusiasm.  “And where is this Tickytin now?”

                “She is coming soon.”  The Sinth blinked and turned its pointed ears like radar dishes.  “In fact, she has just arrived.”

t

                Egon and Winston had scanned the room where the interferences were the strongest.  They had scanned it upside down and from left to right, but couldn’t find a trace leading to the source of the readings.  With a frustrated sigh Winston leaned back against a wall and let his eyes wander over the old, broken furniture, the dust settling on the floor and the creaky wooden floor itself.  Egon was just returning from a scan of the cupboard at the other side of the room when Winston frowned.  His eyes were still fixed to the floor.

                “Egon, take a look at this.”

                The blond physicist walked over to his friend.  “What is it, Winston?” he wanted to know.

                Winston pointed at the floor and Egon looked down, too.  At first, he didn’t see anything, then his brows gathered together in a frown.  The floor seemed normal at first sight.  The wood was old, it tended to creak and groan, and it was covered with dust and debris.  But on closer look you could see that some patches of dust were ... more alive.  Egon didn’t know how to put it, but there was a patch of dust that was completely undisturbed, though they had walked through it more than once, hadn’t they?  It bore no marks at all.

                Cautiously, the scientist edged closer, his PKE meter in hand and his eyes fixed on the small read-out screen.  There was no blip, no single reading of an anomaly.  Adjusting the meter to another frequency, Egon heard a single, soft ‘beep’.  But that was enough for him to ascertain that this was not normal.  Just before he could step on the strange patch of undisturbed dust, a hand grabbed his left arm and kept him from walking any farther.

                “Whoa, just a minute,” Winston said.  “You don’t want to get into whatever mess Peter and Janine have gotten themselves into, do you?”

                Egon stared at the patch, then nodded.  “This is very interesting.  The psi-energies are on a level unknown by other ghosts we have encountered so far.  It registers on a sub-level which might lead to a demonic entity or a god, but not a ghost.”

                “A god?!  Egon!”  Winston stared at him.  “I had my share of fighting gods!”  Only two weeks ago they had had a nasty encounter with a god-like entity.

                “It is possible that it is a god, Winston.”

                The black man groaned again, resigning himself to his fate.  Suddenly the meter gave a shrill scream and the small arms that were attached to both sides shot up.

                “What now?”

                “Something is coming.”  Egon fiddled with the dials.  “Very fast!”

                That was the moment a brilliant explosion of light shattered the already broken windows completely.  Pieces of debris flew through the air, making the two Ghostbuster go for cover.  A gust of wind unsettled the dust and huge clouds rose from the floor, making the men sneeze violently.  A tremor ran through the ruined building and the ceiling cracked slightly.  As fast as the tremors and wind had come, they disappeared again.

                Cautiously, the two men sat up.  Winston was the first to get his eyes focused and they focused on something out of a nightmare.  He grabbed Egon’s arm and the other man looked up, too.  His blue eyes widened as he saw what now sat in the middle of the room.

                It was large, about twelve feet tall, just fitting in the high ceilinged room of the old mansion.  It consisted of dozens of tentacles and eyes, and was covered with blackish-blue scales.  There was something looking like a mouth on one side of the lumpy body.  The tentacles twitched on the floor, coiling and uncoiling like snakes.

                “Egon?” Winston questioned, sounding much calmer than he felt.

                Egon stared at the PKE meter, then back at the creature.  “It’s off the scale,” he said solemnly.

                “That’s bad, huh?”

                “Only if it’s hostile.”

                Winston grimaced.  All the ‘off-the-scale-creatures’ they had encountered in their line of work had been hostile to some extent.  “And I think I’m not far away from the truth if I think that we can’t catch it, right?”

                Egon only nodded.

                “Then now what?” the black Ghostbuster wanted to know.

                “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

t

                A few feet below the room where Egon and Winston had just encountered Thaenjhvuinhj, Peter and Janine felt the tremors, too.  Dust rained from the ceiling above and Peter thought he heard it crack in more places.  They had to get out of this hole!  Through the tremors the Sinth hadn’t moved.  It still sat where it was, eyeing the ceiling with dirty yellow eyes.

                “She has arrived to claim her prey.”

                “If she hunts ghosts why doesn’t she just hunt down another one?” Peter asked, dusting himself off — with no great success.

                The Sinth gave him a puzzled look.  “She chased it, so she wants to have it.  It’s her prey.”

                “But now we caught it.”

                “She will get it back.  It belongs rightfully to her.”

                Peter didn’t want to imagine how this Thaenjhvuinhj would try to get her lunch back.  Egon and Winston were alone up there, alone against a creature that was mad because they had caught something that belonged to her.

                “Listen, Sinth, if we can get up there to our friends we can tell them what she wants and they will give it to her.  There’s no need to get violent or anything.”

                The Sinth looked first at Peter, then at Janine.  “Even if I were able to get you two up there, your companion is unable to travel.”

                Peter looked at Janine, too.  The Sinth was right.  She was in no condition to go anywhere.  The red-haired secretary interpreted the look in the green eyes correctly and scowled.

                “Now don’t play nurse-maid on me, Dr.  Venkman!  I’m just fine where I am.  Get your butt up there and help the guys bust this ghost!”

                “I can’t leave you alone,” Peter protested.  “You’re hurt!”

                “And I’ll hurt you if you don’t get the hell up there and get this mess straightened out!”  She glared at him.

                Peter bit his lip, torn between helping his friends and staying with Janine.  A loud roar from above made up his mind.  He squeezed Janine’s shoulder and stood, feeling his cramped muscles protest.  He turned to the Sinth.

                “Okay, you said you can’t get two people up there.  What about me?”

                “Possible.  Have you ever traveled in the darkness?”

                “Do it all the time,” Peter replied flippantly, though he had no idea what the entity was talking about.

                “Follow me.”

                The Sinth stood, too, and walked off into the dead-end tunnel Peter had explored before.  With a last, encouraging look at Janine the dark-haired man followed it.  Blackness swallowed him and the secretary was alone, only the rumbles and roars from above keeping her company.

t

                Winston dove for cover behind an old, turned over table as the large ghost — or demon or whatever it was — lashed out with its tentacles again.  He didn’t know if they had done anything to provoke the attack — maybe standing in front of it, gaping, had been enough — but right now he had the impression it was really angry.  The proton beams were completely useless against the large creature, making it only madder.

                Egon had taken cover beside Winston, hunching over the PKE meter.

                “What now, Egon?  Any bright ideas how we’re gonna bust the ugly toad?”

                “None,” the physicist answered truthfully.  “It’s too strong for our two streams and even if we had all four, we still couldn’t do it.  It’s like Nexa.”

                “Oh, great!  It’ll eat us alive if we don’t think of something fast!”

                Another roar made him cower down and seconds later debris rained down on them.  They were in trouble.  Deep, deep trouble.

t

                Peter was surrounded by suffocating blackness.  There wasn’t a single point of light and he wasn’t so sure if he was coming or going.  He thought he was walking somewhere, but he could also be standing rooted to the spot.  His sense of direction was gone, his eyes, though wide open, were of no use, and his feet were definitely not on solid ground.  He gasped for air that wasn’t there, feeling the blackness close around him, bringing an inhuman coldness.

                He had the sudden feeling of falling down and screamed in surprise.  His hands flailed out for something solid to hold on, all the time thinking he was rushing down to his certain death on very solid ground.

                Then light washed over him, blinding him and he closed his eyes with a groan.  When he opened them again to try and make out his surroundings a wave of dizziness washed over him and the world tilted sideways.  Instinctively, Peter stretched out his hand, searching for support and coming down hard against a solid, metal surface.  His knees were like jelly and his head was spinning.  When the feeling of dizziness finally diminished to a bearable level he blinked and tried a second time to get his bearings.

                To his surprise he found he was standing right beside Ecto-1.  Staring at the white car as if he saw it for the first time he didn’t notice the Sinth coming up to him.

                “You lied to me,” it said sternly, the deep voice full of reproach, but still kind of warm.

                Peter turned his head when he heard the voice.  It was a bad idea, because now nausea hit him and he slid to the ground with a moan, supporting his back against the car.  Yellow eyes looked seriously at him.  In the light of the day the Sinth didn’t hold any less a menace than in the twilight below.  The black color of its body was of no black Peter had seen before.  It was very black, pitch-black, swallowing all the light touching it.  For the first time he saw the sharp claws he had only felt before and the spikes that covered the shoulders, sticking out like sharp blades.  He shuddered, remembering that he was trusting this thing to help him.

                “What?” he asked in a rough voice, gulping down the bile that rose in his throat.

                “You said you walked the darkness before.  You have not.”

                Peter massaged his temples, closing his eyes.  “Oh, that darkness.  I thought you were talking ‘bout another darkness down there.  I must have misheard something.”  He wished his head would stop pounding like mad.

                The Sinth gave a snort of pure disbelief.  “You could have been killed.  And you would not be the first one vanishing because he was too confident in his own abilities.  Call yourself lucky you are still alive.”

                “I don’t feel alive,” the psychologist muttered, opening his eyes again.  He was at an eye-level with the creature and the yellow stare unnerved him.  Mostly because the thing looked ... worried?

                “You are foolish.”

                “We made it, okay?”  Peter was annoyed by the statement because he knew it was true.  But he still felt touchy about it.  “It was my decision, my risk.”

                “I hate to say you are wrong again.  The risk was ours, not simply yours,” the Sinth corrected him somberly.

                “Huh?”

                But the Sinth didn’t answer the questioning noise.

                “Okay, let’s help my friends and get your friend Thaenjhvuinhj her dinner date.”

                Peter tried to get back to his feet, finding it hard to do so.  Another wave of dizziness washed over him and he stumbled, his hands flailing out to catch some support.  Black and red spots danced in front of his eyes.  He found the support he was looking for, not in the form of cold metal, but something soft and warm.

                “Very foolish,” a voice rumbled and Peter realized that he was in fact leaning hard on the Sinth.

                He didn’t know what he had expected the thing to feel like, but he certainly had never imagined it to be warm of all things.  But it was warm — and soft.  Though his hands and arms should have been speared by the spikes, nothing had hurt him.  Now that he looked more closely at it, he discovered that parts of the spikes had withdrawn into the black body, leaving space for him to touch it without hurting himself.  Forcing more strength into his body he swayed back, coming against Ecto and catching his breath.

                “Maybe you’re right,” Peter muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.  “But my friends need me.  I gotta get to ‘em.”  He inhaled deeply, wishing the world would decide in which direction it wanted to tilt.  “Thanks for letting me lean on you.”

                Yellow eyes examined him, but the creature didn’t say anything.  The spikes were back again and the body’s surface looked as hard and cold as when he had seen it the first time down in the cellar of the mansion.  Peter just didn’t know what to make of it, so he decided not to ponder it any longer.  He had a problem to solve.

                He intended to walk off from Ecto, then remembered something.  Maybe....

                “I knew it!” he triumphed seconds after rummaging around the car and surfacing with a full trap.

                The Sinth came closer, sniffing at the device, then baring a set of black, gleaming teeth that brought out more sweat on Peter’s forehead.  A rumble emerged from the lipless snout.

                “You truly caught the prey,” it said.

                “Of course,” Peter answered with offended pride.  “We’re Ghostbusters.  It’s our job!”

                The Sinth didn’t answer, simply cocked its head, looking at him with those strange, yellow eyes.

                “Okay,” the dark-haired man muttered, straightening a bit, wincing when his battered body protested.

                “You are hurt, too,” the voice of the Sinth said softly.

                Peter, still annoyed and feeling irritated by the softness and warmth in the alien entity’s voice, narrowed his eyes, looking at the black horselike creature.

                “So what?  That’s none of your business, okay?  Why don’t you go back to Janine and keep her company?”

                “Why should I?” was the question in return.

                _Good question_ , Peter thought.  He wasn’t even sure Janine would want this particular company, but he didn’t like imagining her down there all alone.

                “I don’t know what good it’ll be if we both show up inside.  Maybe this Tantini thinks you’re a traitor because you helped me out.”

                The Sinth considered that.  Then it said: “No, I don’t think so.  She is not my Master.  She can’t decide for me.”

                _Shit!_ Peter looked from the house to the creature.  “Why don’t you consider it a favor?  I mean, if we meet again and the guys want to bust you I can get in a good word for you.”  He gave the Sinth a hopeful glance.

                Again the creature considered it, snorting.  “You could not trap me with your devices.”

                Peter blew out an exaggerated breath.  “Okay, okay, cut it out!” he snapped.  “Then just keep standing here, staring at me and talking down on me!  I just thought you might want to help me a little bit more and watch over Janine!  She’s all alone down there and hurt!  How’d you like to be in her position, without help and moral support?”

                The effort took a lot out of him and everything blurred around him for a second.  He rubbed his eyes, now more convinced than ever that his blow to the head was a concussion.  Whatever the Sinth had taken him through, some kind of gate or tunnel, it must have worsened the injury.  He turned his back on the black being and limped over to the front door of the house.  He didn’t turn back and so he missed the disappearance of the otherworldly being.

                Peter had no idea how to handle the situation, not a single one.  Thaenjhvuinhj wanted the ghost - he had the ghost.  What kept the thing from trashing them after getting what it wanted?  _Nothing_ , his mind answered him.  _Nothing at all_.  Sighing, he stopped in front of the battered, half-open door.  Inside he heard growling and rumbling.  Something large moved not far away.

                “Okay, Peter,” the psychologist muttered.  “Handle it cool and you won’t get burned.”

                Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open.  A roar could be heard from inside.  Peter clutched the ghost trap even harder and walked to where he and Janine had fallen through the floor and where he knew the creature from another dimension had to be.

t

                Janine lay with her eyes closed, trying not to feel the pain that raced through her body.  It was hard to breathe with broken ribs and her leg was constantly on fire, though the beam no longer rested on it.  And above all she missed Peter.  It was a strange feeling and she’d never tell him this little thing, but right now she would be more than glad to have him here, talking to her, taking her mind off what had happened and might happen.

                “Damnit, Melnitz!” she whispered fiercely.  “Always getting yourself in tight situations!”

                There was a little noise from the dead-end tunnel and she tensed.  It was the same noise as before when the creature, the Sinth, had appeared.  But it had gone off with Peter, leading him out of here, hadn’t it?  Maybe Peter had been wrong to trust the thing and it had killed him!  This thought turned Janine’s stomach into an icy pit and she banished it immediately.  But when she saw the familiar figure emerge from the blackness into the dim twilight of the cellar, her heart sank.

                “Where’s Peter?” she demanded to know the second the Sinth came into view.

                The black creature came a bit closer, sitting down barely three feet away from where the red-haired woman lay suspended on her back.  Yellow eyes studied her with interest.

                “Your friend is in the light outside.”

                Janine sighed in relief, though suspicion flared immediately.  “How can I know you tell the truth?”

                “You humans are very suspicious creatures,” the Sinth said with a hint of offense.  “I said I would bring him through the darkness and so I did, though he lied to me about his ability to walk the darkness.”  It snorted.  “He could have died.”

                “Died?” Janine echoed, aghast.  “Why didn’t you say so before?”

                “Because he said he could do it.  I do not question statements made with confidence.  But do not worry, he is alive.”

                “Then why are you back here and not upstairs, helping Peter?” she asked hotly.

                “There is no way to help him appease Thaenjhvuinhj.  He has to give her the prey and she will go and feed.  And he asked me to....”  It searched for words, the ears twitching.  “He said you needed company?”

                Janine had to suppress a chuckle after the immediate surprise was gone.  “Company?”  _Peter had sent the Sinth down to keep her company?  Geez!_   “Well, I could need some company,” she confided.  “But I didn’t think of a supernatural creature when I wished I had someone down here to keep me from going nuts.”

                “You do not like my kind.”

                “No, no,” she said hastily.  “It’s not dislike.  It’s just kinda strange to talk to something like you.  Never saw anything like you before.  I mean, I’ve seen a lot of ghosts and demons, even gods, but you’re new.”

                “There are few of us,” the Sinth acknowledged.  “And we don’t usually hunt in your world, though you have lots of prey for us to be interested in.”

                “Didn’t you say that you don’t hunt?”

                The Sinth gave a hiss of offended pride.  “I do hunt, but Thaenjhvuinhj is a guarantee for a filled stomach.”

                “So you’re a parasite, feeding off others.”

                Another hiss.

                “Okay,” Janine quickly said, “change of topic.  No more personal questions.  Except maybe for one: do you have a name?”

                “Name?”

                “Well, I’m called Janine.  How do you call yourself?”

                “I am a Sinth,” the creature replied, a bit puzzled.

                “Yeah, sure, but if there are more of you, you gotta have a way to address each other.  Or do you just say ‘hey, you!’?”

                “We simply recognize each other.”

                “By smell?”

                “We just know who we are.”  It gave a strange hum.

                Janine sighed.  “Okay.  Let’s leave it at that.”  She glanced at the ceiling above.  “How come we can see the hole and the others don’t?”

                “There is no way to explain it in your terms,” the Sinth said readily.  “Thaenjhvuinhj’s power is great.  Right now your friends are up there with her, but we can’t see any of it.”

                “Can’t you get me out of here somehow?” the secretary and part-time Ghostbuster wanted to know.  “There must be a way.”

                “You can’t walk the darkness.  And even if you could, you are too weak to withstand the powers in the darkness itself.”  There was genuine sadness in the creature’s yellow eyes.  “I am sorry, but you are confined to this place.”  It settled down on the debris-covered floor, resting its head on its front paws.

                Janine sighed.  “Well, at least I have someone to talk to.  I hope you don’t mind babbling secretaries because babbling is how I feel right now.  Peter would be a better listener, I think.  You can talk his ear off and on again.”

                “You speak highly of your companion, though I thought of no such companionship when I arrived.”

                Janine chuckled, her ribs protesting immediately.  “He isn’t my companion, he’s my employer and a friend, too, who’s most of the time behaving like a complete jerk.”

                “But still you like him.”  Its deep voice sounded puzzled by the concept.

                “It’s hard not to like him in some way.  You can’t change him and I don’t want to adapt.  We live on a basis of, say, mutual disagreement.”  She smiled.

                The Sinth gave a strange hum.  “It doesn’t make sense, but it must for you, so I accept it.”

                “Yeah, it makes a kinda sense, though don’t ever ask me what kind.  Do you have any companions?”

                “No.”

                “Okay, wrong question.”

                Above, a loud roar could be heard, followed by the sound of something heavy breaking.  Janine tensed and held her breath.

                “What’s happening?”

                The Sinth lifted its head.  “I do not know.”  The yellow eyes became small slits.  “We have to wait.  When Thaenjhvuinhj goes, the barrier that is keeping you hidden from your friends will vanish, too.”  It rested its head on the paws again.  “Until then, there is nothing I can do.”

                “Except listen to my ramblings.”

                A snort answered that statement and Janine grinned, continuing to talk about her life and the guys and Ghostbusters Inc.  while the black, wetly glistening creature listened to her with pricked ears.

t

                Egon landed hard on one side, the fall driving the air out of his lungs.  Gasping for breath he rolled around, one hand on the thrower and firing away at the large ghost.  The proton beam danced over what could be a belly.  It didn’t affect the creature, just annoyed it even more.  Winston, who had searched for new cover, too, after the table had been smashed by one tentacle — and they nearly with it — joined in the fire.  The creature turned to him, hissing, waving threatening tentacles his way.  Winston moved farther back toward the wall, never ceasing his fire.

                Egon got his legs under him and stumbled toward the door to the adjoining room.  They had to get to safety and make a plan, though he didn’t really know how the two of them could defeat this monstrosity.  He was just halfway to the door when someone slammed open the door that led to another room, opposite Egon’s position.  The physicist turned and gaped at the dusty, disheveled looking man in the tattered, brown jumpsuit.

                “Peter!” he breathed.

                And it was Peter.  He was covered in dust from head to toe, his uniform was torn in places, and his right leg was covered with blood.  The thick, brown hair stuck out all directions and there were bruises all over his bare hands and his thin face.  Though he appeared on the verge of collapse, there was a determined fire burning in his green eyes.  Then Egon saw the ghost trap his friend was holding.  It was a full one, the light blinking in regular intervals, indicating there was a ghost in there.

                “Hey, Tinny!” Peter yelled, waving with his free hand.

                The large ghost stopped abruptly as it heard the unfamiliar voice calling its name.  With a roar it turned, its many eyes fixing the much smaller human in a cold stare.  There was a gurgle emerging from the toothy mouth.

                “Yeah, you!” the psychologist continued.  “I got what you want!”  He held up the ghost trap and another gurgle came from the creature, this time it sounded hungry.  “You leave my friends and me alone and you get it, understood?”

                Thaenjhvuinhj hissed dangerously, moving toward Peter.  The dark-haired man didn’t give ground, clutching the trap even tighter.

                “If you threaten me, I won’t give it to you, got me, buddy?  I want your promise that you get the hell out of here the moment you get your dinner and leave us alone.”

                Another gurgle.

                “I take that as a yes.”  Peter’s eyes never left the large creature as he placed the trap on the floor, shoving it toward the ghost.

                Thaenjhvuinhj hovered over the trap, tentacles twitching.

                “Dig in,” Peter muttered and stomped on the trigger.

                The trap opened immediately, a brilliant white cone of light surging upward.  A shadowy form whisked through the light of what it thought apparent freedom.  As it came out of the trap, the ghost Egon and Winston had caught only hours earlier took solid form.  Pink eyes locked on Peter, who was the first it saw.  The bluish-yellow body blew up like a balloon and a roar of recognition escaped the thin lips.  The ghost was intent on revenge on his captor and surged forward.

                “Now would be a really good time to get your munchies,” Peter muttered.

                As if Thaenjhvuinhj had understood him, the monstrous creature surged forward, too, its tentacles whipping at its prey.  The smaller ghost screamed in terror as it recognized the hunter, twisting desperately in the strong tentacles, unable to free itself.

                Thaenjhvuinhj didn’t devour her prey like Peter had expected.  She simply held it in place, fixing part of her eyes on the writhing ghost, part on the human standing before her.  Then she gave a gurgle Peter couldn’t understand and popped out of existence.

                The moment the ghost was gone, a large hole appeared nearly in the middle of the room, only a few feet beside Winston.  The black man gave a yell of surprise and flailed his arms to keep balance.  Egon jumped at him, grabbing the other man’s belt and pulling him back.  Winston fell against the blond physicist and both sat down in a graceless heap.

                “Thanks, man”, Winston breathed, staring at the hole.  Then he seemed to remember something and looked at Peter, who was still standing were he was, looking utterly exhausted.

                Getting to their feet, the two men went over to him.

                “Peter?” Egon questioned as he saw the hollow look in Peter’s eyes.  It was as if his brain had shut down and his body would be the next to do so.  Touching the psychologist’s arm he shook him a little, repeating his name.

                Peter blinked and turned his head, his green eyes looking blankly at Egon.  “Hi,” he managed and his knees gave way.  If Egon hadn’t supported him, Winston immediately grabbing his other side, he’d have simply fallen to the floor.

                “Peter!”

                “I’m ... I’m all right, guys,” Peter whispered.  “At least I will be when the world stops spinning.”  He looked past them at the hole in the floor.  “Janine, she’s .... still down there.  She’s hurt.”

                Egon paled dramatically and followed Peter’s eyes to the hole.  Then he jumped up, leaving his friend to Winston’s care, and cautiously walking to the edge of the hole.

                “Janine?” he called.

                First, there was no answer, then: “Down here!”

                Relief washed over the blond man.  At least she was conscious.

                “Hang on, Janine!  We’ll get you out!”

                “Take your time!” she replied.

                For a second Egon frowned as he thought he could hear a soft hiss and rumble in the semi-darkness, then he shoved that thought aside.  Janine wouldn’t sound like this, relieved and relaxed, if there was anything dangerous down there with her.

                When Egon turned back to his two friends; Peter was already trying to get to his feet again, while Winston tried to make him sit down — without luck.  Unsteadily and limping, Peter came over to Egon, Winston hovering at his side, ready to catch him if he had another attack of weakness.

                “Janine’s fine,” the physicist told the two.  “She’s conscious and responsive.”

                “How bad is she hurt?” Zeddmore wanted to know from Peter.

                “Cracked, maybe broken ribs,” Peter said, his voice stronger than he felt.  “And her leg was trapped under a beam.  She wasn’t bleeding when I left her and I don’t think she’s concussed, but she’s in pain.”

                “I’ll call the paramedics,” Winston offered and walked off to Ecto-1, where they had their mobile phone.

                Peter peered down into the twilight below.  “Yo, Janine!” he called.

                “Same to you, Dr.  V!” was the answer.  “Looks like you made it!”

                “Ever had any doubt about it, Melnitz?  Delivered the dinner on time.  Room service, too!”

                That drew a chuckle from Janine.  Egon simply frowned.  He was curious what this was all about.  But there was time enough to ask questions later — when Janine was safe.

                “Thanks for the company,” Janine suddenly added.

                Peter frowned, staring into the hole.  “Company?  What company?”

                “Remember something black and big you tangled with?”

                “The Sinth?!”

                “Yeah, he’s down here with me.”

                “Peter, what’s a Sinth?” Egon asked, puzzled.

                “It’s down there with you?” Peter asked in complete disbelief, ignoring Egon.

                “Uh-huh.  Good company, too, if you don’t mind talking to a rock.”

                A low growl came on that remark and Egon felt the hair rise on his neck.

                “Peter,” he asked again.  “What’s a Sinth?”

                Venkman, still completely puzzled, shook his head.  “Later, big guy.”

                “Listen, Janine, the paramedics will be here soon.  Don’t get too cozy down there.”

                Janine gave an affirmative and Peter drew back from the hole.  When he finally looked at Egon he saw the question about Janine’s ‘company’ still in his eyes.

                “It’s a long story,” the psychologist said and settled down on the floor.  “But I think I can make it a short enough one to pass the time.”

t

                The ambulance brought Janine and Peter to the nearest hospital where they were thoroughly examined.  Janine had two cracked and one broken rib, and a broken leg, too.  The cuts and bruises all over her body were minor.  Luckily, she wasn’t concussed.  Peter hadn’t fared better.  His leg injury turned out to need stitching and they x-rayed his skull to ascertain there was no fracture.  Though he complained about a headache, the emergency room doctor said he wasn’t concussed either.  But he was completely exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept for days.  Since Peter felt very weak and shaky and was too thin, the doctors examined him more thoroughly.  They found he had lost weight and Peter guessed it had to be the transition through what the Sinth had called ‘the darkness’.The second he was out of the emergency room and free of nurses and doctors -- after signing a release form -- he asked for Janine’s room.

                Winston, who had been waiting for his friend — because he knew he wouldn’t stay in the hospital — guided him to the right room.  Egon was already there, keeping the secretary company.

                “Yo, Melnitz!” Peter caroled with a cheery grin on his lips as he entered the room, still limping.

                Janine, propped up in the bed and wearing a hospital issue nightgown, turned from her conversation with Egon.

                “You look like shit, Dr.  Venkman,” she said instead of a greeting.

                “Wow, thanks, Janine!  You on drugs or what?” Peter complained.  “Do I go around and insult you because of how you look?”

                Janine smiled.  “Just telling the truth.  You should be in bed like me.”

                “How about ‘with you’?” Peter suggested slyly.

                That made her grimace theatrically.

                “Peter, how are you?” Egon cut in before she could reply, his blue eyes examining his friend.

                “I’ll live.”  The dark-haired man sat down on a visitor’s chair while Winston decided to stand, though there was another chair.  “How d’you feel, kiddo?” he asked Janine.

                “I feel nothing.  They pumped me full of pain-killers and sedatives, so don’t be surprised when I suddenly fall into dreamland.”

                Peter smiled.  “The doc told me you’re pretty lucky.  You could have a punctured lung or an open fracture.”

                “Yeah, very lucky.  Still got a busted rib and arm, thanks.”

                “You’ll be out in no time,” Winston assured her.

                “You know that means you’re without a secretary, don’t you?”

                “Uh-huh,” Peter acknowledged.  “But I think I can fill in for you until I get that leg back in working order.”  He overlooked her mock shocked look and overhead the groan of despair, too.

                “I think we should go home,” Egon said.  “You need rest, Peter, and Ray is anxious to know what exactly happened.”  Spengler had called the occultist at Central, explaining in short what had occurred while Ray was gone and that they’d tell him everything the moment they got home.

                Peter stood, patting Janine’s hand.  “You get some rest, Janine, I’ll handle the work.  Don’t worry.”

                “Hearing you telling me not to worry is a reason to worry,” Janine muttered loud enough for him to hear it.

                Peter stuck out his tongue and left.  Winston simply grinned and followed him while Egon said his own good-byes to their secretary.

t

                “....And that’s about all I can tell you.”  Peter took a sip from his glass of orange juice and looked at the three men who sat attentively on either end of the couch or the arm-chairs.  He had just told them the story of their crash through the floor, their encounter with the Sinth and the entity called Thaenjhvuinhj.

                Egon rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “That is very interesting, Peter,” he said.  “When I talked to Janine, just before you came in, she told me some of the things that had happened and she also mentioned the Sinth.  I looked up the name and the description in ‘Tobin’s Spirit Guide’ and came across some very interesting reports.”

                “Shoot,” Peter said and leaned back comfortably.

                “’Tobin’s’ calls the being you encountered a Zhji’Sinthjin.”

                “Breaks your tongue,” Peter muttered, earning a stern glance from his blond friend.

                “The Zhji’Sinthjin,” Egon continued, “are not ghosts, but demons.  They are few and live in dimensions no-one has ever seen before.  Their visits to our world are rare and only some have been recorded.  All records tell of peaceful encounters.” He gave his glasses a push, sliding them up his nose.  “People of ancient times believed that the Zhji’Sinthjin were what they called Soul Mates.”

                “What mates?” Winston wanted to know, eyebrows rising.

                “Soul Mates.  There are legends of old Egypt and Greece, telling of ‘black beings, able to swallow all light, but of pure nature’.  The priests honored them.  Some called them the ‘other half’.”

                “Other half of what?” Ray asked.

                “The other half of a human soul,” the blond man replied calmly.

                A pair of emerald eyes stared intensely at him, then Peter slowly shook his head, but said nothing.

                “The Zhji’Sinthjin,” Egon continued, “seem to be less hostile than we would think of a demon-like entity.  As far as I can read from the data, they feed off other paranormal entities, such as ghosts for instance.  They take the psi-energy from the ghost, leaving an empty shell behind.”

                “Wow!” Ray breathed.  “That’s great!  I wish I could have seen that Zhji’Sinthjin!”

                “Believe me, it was nothing for the eye,” Peter told his younger friend, shuddering as he remembered the glistening black armor and the sharp spikes and claws.

                “What about this ‘traveling through the darkness’,” Winston wanted to know.  “What does it mean?”

                Egon frowned.  “This is what puzzles me.  I think the Zhji’Sinthjin use some kind of gates to get from one place to another when there’s no direct way.  A lot of paranormal entities can transport from one place to another by using another dimension as a portal, so I think they are no exception.  The cellar of the mansion was a trap for the Zhji’Sinthjin Janine and Peter encountered, unless it could jump several meters straight up.  So it used a kind of gate to get from the cellar to the outside.”

                “But why did it come in the first place?” Peter asked the question that had been bugging him for hours.  “I mean, we fell through the ceiling and though I wasn’t out long, I know that it wasn’t there when I came to.  It appeared all of a sudden from out of the tunnel, which I checked and found was a dead end, and just stared at us.”

                “Until you fired your thrower,” Winston put in.

                The psychologist smiled sourly.  “Yeah, my mistake.  Dumb stunt.  But still, it came to us.  Why?”

                Egon shrugged.  “I don’t have an explanation for it.”

                “Maybe it was curious,” Ray suggested.  “It was following this Thaenjhvuinhj and found you.  Simple curiosity.”

                “Maybe,” Peter muttered, a thoughtful frown on his forehead.  Egon knew that look.  His friend was pondering something he wasn’t ready to believe himself or share with the others.

                “What about this Tim ... Tin ... Tirintin ... whatever,” Winston suddenly said.  “What was that thing?”

                “I haven’t found any notes of a ghost like it in ‘Tobin’s’,“ Egon confessed. ²I do not know what that entity was.  But I will research it.”

                “Do you think she will come back, Egon?”

                The blond physicist frowned.  “I’m not sure.  From what I heard from Peter about the entity and from what I saw, I don’t think it is a threat any more.  It is a ghost hunter.”

                “As long as we don’t recruit it for ghostbusting, that’s fine with me,” Peter told him with a smile.  He started to massage his neck, feeling his headache return.

                Egon saw the pain reflected in the green eyes, but didn’t comment on it.  Peter would only deny it.

                “Ray and I will spend some more time researching the two entities, but I don’t think any of them will be of any trouble for us.”

                Egon stood and Ray followed his example, an eager light shining in his eyes.  Though he still had a cold, he felt fit enough to spend some time researching.  The thought of the Zhji’Sinthjin excited him and he really wished he had seen it with his own eyes.  While Ray bounded up the stairs, already lost in thought about which books to research and which ones to get from the library, Winston walked over to the kitchen to do the breakfast dishes, planning to overhaul Ecto-1 after that.  Egon stayed for another moment, watching Peter massage his neck, then his temples.  The psychologist’s eyes were squeezed shut.

                Spengler wasn’t sure what the entity had done to Peter while transferring him from one place to another.  It had drained him, all right, but of what was not clear.  He had lost weight and he was tired, but his mind was okay.  So it had to be life energy.  The physicist just hoped that there would be no lasting effects.  A good night’s sleep and a large breakfast had done no more than reduce the shadows under Peter’s eyes and replace the hollow look in those green eyes with one of exhaustion.

                “Did you take the painkillers the doctor prescribed, Peter?” Egon asked softly, stepping behind his friend and starting a gentle massage.

                “Yeah,” Peter muttered, relaxing his shoulders a bit and letting Egon’s hands work the cramps out of them.  “Not working very well.”

                “Take another one.”

                “And be knocked out.  No thanks, big guy.”  The dark-haired man sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

                “You have had a tiring experience, Peter.  Try to follow the doctor’s orders.”

                “Tiring experience, huh?  I’d call it a nightmare.”

                Egon ceased the massage, went round the couch and sat down opposite Peter in an arm-chair.  “Do you know what happened while you were passing through the gate or portal?”

  

  1. “Could have told me before we went,” he muttered.
  



                Egon smiled a bit, though the humor was missing.  “Would you have chosen not to go if you had known of the likely outcome?”

                “No.”  Peter looked up, a smile creeping over his lips.  “No, I wouldn’t.  Crazy, huh?  I think it just bugs me ‘cause it didn’t tell me.”

                “No, Peter.  It is not crazy.  It is you.”

                “And I ain’t crazy?  Tell me another one!”

                The blond man placed a hand on Peter’s arm and squeezed it slightly.  “Do you think you can handle it?”

                “That I ain’t crazy?  No, I think the knowledge will break me.”  One look into the serious blue eyes drove every ounce of flippancy out of Peter’s voice.  He heaved a sigh.  “I’ll get over it, Egon.  In time.”

                “We are here, Peter.  Just remember that.  Don’t let it eat you up inside.  Okay?”

                Peter grinned lopsidedly.  “Yeah, okay.”  He returned the squeeze.  “I know you will.”  His expression changed as he tried to get himself back together again, neatly collecting his strewn around emotions and confessions and storing them back inside himself.  “Do you want to visit Janine today?” he asked.

                “I was planning to, yes.”  Egon accepted the change as neatly as always.

                A smile crept over Peter’s face.  “She’s one tough cookie, you know?  Being buried under half the ceiling with busted bones and the only company being a Ghostbuster and an alien entity would have driven me nuts.”

                “I don’t think so, Peter.  But I have to agree with you that Janine held out very well.  And so did you.”

                “Thanks, but I didn’t do a lot.  Without the Sinth we’d have been stuck down there and this monster would have flattened you for good.  You know, I’ve been wondering all the time why it helped me.  I mean, it could have kept out of our affair, let Tingletin finish you off.  But it didn’t.  Why, Egon?”

                The blond man returned the gaze from his friend, frowning thoughtfully.  “I don’t know if I can give you a satisfactory answer, Peter.”

                “Try it.”

                “What I read about the Zhji’Sinthjin in ‘Tobin’s’ hints strongly toward empathic, peaceful entities.  They are curious, just as Ray suspected.  I think the Zhji’Sinthjin was interested in you or Janine, Peter, and it wanted to know more about you.  Why it decided to help you I cannot guess.  You said it wasn’t afraid of Thaenjhvuinhj and that it isn’t afraid of us trapping it.  The only reason I could give you now is unscientific.”

                Peter raised both eyebrows.  “Unscientific?  Coming from you?  That must be an interesting one.”

                Egon scowled a bit.

                “Well?” his friend prodded.

                “It likes you.”

                Peter first stared at him, then sputtered into laughter.  “That’s ... that’s....”  He gasped for air, trying to suppress another wave of laughter rising inside of him.  “That’s ridiculous!”

                “Why, Peter?  Certain kinds of entities feel attracted to humans.  Take Slimer, for instance.  He is attracted to humans and he definitely likes you.  He even adores you, though I don’t know why.”

                That earned him a sour look.  “Slimer’s not a good example,” the dark-haired psychologist said.  “He’s a pest.  A slimy pest.”

                “Like I said, it is not a scientific explanation, Peter.  It is a guess as good as it can be from the data I have right now.  Maybe Ray and I find something other than what we have found so far.  Until then, it remains an open question as why the Zhji’Sinthjin decided to help you.”

                Egon stood from the chair and turned to walk to the spiral stairs.  “I advice you get some rest, Peter.  And take some more painkillers.  We will pay Janine a visit in the afternoon.”

                Peter stretched out on the couch.  “Yes, mom.”

                Egon was just up the first two steps of the stairs when Peter’s voice stopped him.

                “Egon?”

                He turned.  Peter still sat on the couch, staring at the TV screen where an old black-and-white movie flickered.

                “Yes, Peter?”

                “Were you serious about this soul business?”

                “Yes, Peter, I was serious.”

                There was no further comment on it and Egon went upstairs.

                Peter grabbed the remote control of the TV, flipping through the channels until he found something that didn’t require much attention on his part.  But his mind was still on the Sinth, reeling around the single question of why it had helped him.  He knew that he might never find an answer to that.  But then again: did he really want one?

t

                A silent shadow sat on the roof of Ghostbuster Central, listening to the sounds of the night this world offered.  Pointed ears moved like little radar dishes and pupilless eyes stared into the blackness.  The shadow was surrounded by an unnaturally deep darkness, as if it was swallowing up all the light in its immediate area.

                A low rumble escaped the lipless snout and the creature stood, walking over to the roof’s end.  It stared down into the street, eyes fixing on the light that indicated an illuminated room, only two floors beneath it.

                The Sinth puzzled over the strange feeling that had led it to help the two humans.  And it also puzzled over the things it had felt when passing through the darkness with the human Peter Venkman.  It had been a short, intense sensation it just couldn’t categorize.  And the feeling still lingered, though it was fading fast now, leaving a strange taste behind.

                Maybe it would never know what had driven it to do such a thing.  But maybe it would come back to examine them more closely.  Just maybe.

                It stared into a puddle of water on the roof.  A pair of green eyes stared back.  There were tiny specks of dirty yellow color spotting those green eyes, but in time they would vanish, too.  The Sinth, as yet unaccustomed to the new eye-color, hummed.  It was the first sign of a change it would undergo in the times to come.  It didn’t know how to stop the process or what would become of it after the change.  Maybe it would die.

                It hummed again.  Well, that would be a new experience.

                Or maybe nothing at all would happen.

                It disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
